


Dark

by midnight12181



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-21
Updated: 2011-08-21
Packaged: 2017-10-22 22:00:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/243014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnight12181/pseuds/midnight12181
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a long day, Reno just needs to relax.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Dark  
> Fandom: Final Fantasy VII  
> Author: Sprink  
> Rating: R  
> Disclaimer: Standard disclaimers apply. Reno and Rude are owned and operated by Square Enix.  
> Warnings: Man on Self action
> 
> Note: This is a very old fic. I've edited it a touch, but the core of it remains intact.

He doesn't need to turn on the light as he shakily makes his way into his apartment. It is late, and he notices that even though he hadn't eaten in several hours, he still wasn't hungry. Those kinds of jobs did that to him sometimes. Sometimes he forgot that eating was just as important to survival as dodging bullets.

His keys drop into his recently removed shoes, and he stubs his toe on the solid oak coffee table between him and the bathroom. He cusses, but keeps up his zombie-like shuffle towards the bathroom. He needs sleep, but he needs a shower first.

His jacket is thrown haphazardly onto an armchair that is missing half its stuffing. His shirt fares no better as it settles on the hardwood floor of the hallway between the living room and the bathroom. His pants clink hard on the tile bathroom floor as he doesn't bother to empty his phone, wallet, or anything else hiding in his pockets. His socks are balled up and tossed onto the pile of pants. Finally, he stood naked just outside the shower door.

He is happy to have an actual shower door as opposed to a shower curtain as he rests his head against the cool plastic. Sleep compels him, but the desire to at least be clean compels him more. He opens the shower door a little to turn the water on, not caring how hot he has set the dials; the hot water never gets that hot anyway. He picks up his pants, fishing out a half-crushed pack of cigarettes and a mostly dead lighter before dropping the pants again unceremoniously. It takes him three tries to get enough of a flame to light the cigarette hanging from his lips, and as he sets the pack and lighter atop the shower doors, he steps into the steaming water.

He hisses around his cigarette as the water hits him. Perhaps his landlord finally got around to fixing the water heater, as the water is warm enough to send up billows of steam. He watches as the smoke mingles with the steam, letting the heat of the water attempt to wash away the dirt on his skin, the smell of gunpowder, the sound of the gun's retort, anything. He leans his head back, letting the water plaster his spikes down on his forehead, across his cheeks, like blood dripping from a head wound he knew wasn't there.

He swears once as a stray drop of water makes the hots on his cigarette fizzle a little, but a few strong puffs and it's back to letting its smoke mingle with the steam. He continues to stand there until a sharp burning smell directly under his nose indicates just how long he was actually standing there. He takes the cigarette, burnt to the filter, douses it under the showerhead, then tosses it over the top of the shower doors towards the waste basket.

He reaches towards where he thinks the shampoo/conditioner mixture Elena purchased for him is on the edge of the tub. He only fumbles a couple times before he finds it, his eyes using the available light coming through the shades to make out the outline of the bottle.

The mixture is cold in his hands, but just as cold when he places it on his head, working it into a lather before tilting his head back and letting his hair rinse clean. He pushes the dropped shampoo/conditioner bottle towards the back of the tub as he leans down to grab the body wash. He chuckles; Rude would always defend his preference, stating that body wash didn't dry out the skin as much as regular, ShinRa-issue soap did.

The body wash isn't as cool as the shampoo was, and he sighs a little as the warm liquid works itself into a lather over his chest. He can feel a few of his lower ribs under his hands, and sighs, knowing that Rude will insist he eat more next time he sees them. Wasn't his fault he had the metabolism of a Hasted chocobo.

He thought about Rude's hands as he continued washing himself. Rude had the best hands, strong yet gentle. And kind of girly, truth be told. Never had he seen someone with such soft hands that wasn't a girl.

He found his hands lingering with the slippery body wash over his groin, feeling himself grow heavier in his hand the more he thought of his partner. It had been a week since they'd last shared a bed, and he was starting to feel a little pent up. Nothing a quick hand of his own couldn't fix... or at least temporarily alleviate.

It didn’t take him long to finish, and he watches as the fall from the shower washes his seed from his body to swirl with the water before going down the drain. At least he feels a little better. With a sigh, he reaches up to the top of the shower doors, grabbing his pack of cigarettes and lighter.

He takes one out and lights it, taking a long drag from it before heaving an almost contented sigh. Just another day for a Turk.


End file.
